


How to Be Human 101 - A Crashcourse for Immortals, Vampires, and Immortal Vampires

by escspace



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Blood Drinking, M/M, Modern Ragar AU, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escspace/pseuds/escspace
Summary: When Frankenstein returns after disappearing for nine days, Raizel and Ragar notice a few side effects.
Relationships: Cadis Etrama di Raizel/Frankenstein (Noblesse), Frankenstein (Noblesse)/Ragar Kertia, Frankenstein/Ragar Kertia/Cadis Etrama Di Raizel, Ragar Kertia/Cadis Etrama di Raizel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	How to Be Human 101 - A Crashcourse for Immortals, Vampires, and Immortal Vampires

Ragar was a noble of many interests and facets. He could name all 391 Animal Crossing villagers from memory. He could recite any scene verbatim from cult classic film _Pulp Fiction_. He liked hip-hop, rock-n-roll, R&B, country, EDM, metal, jazz, bossa nova. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, he would slide into the driver’s seat of the sleek, black Mercedes Benz and cruise down the highway, radio blasting out the window with the wind and the rumble of the road. Every weekend, he would make sure to pay a visit to his favorite ice cream parlor; it was the only place in town that served the durian and green tea combination he enjoyed.

Ragar had done many things and learned even more. To him, the world—especially the human one—was, every waking moment, overwhelmingly bright and colorful and fantastical. He could hardly believe that centuries ago, a stifled Lukedonia was all he knew—was his entire world. That clan leader, once known as the esteemed Sir Ragar Kertia of the Kertia Clan, Ragar now thought he was terribly naive. And terribly boring to boot.

But, there were times when he would have appreciated the aid of such a clan leader possessing of the fearsome powers of his predecessors. Times like when he found himself face to face with an opponent that was more trouble than they were worth. Ragar had long since replaced the silent edge of Kartas for the fire and ricocheting violence of two gunblades generously gifted to him by his closest and most insufferable friend.

He took aim at the fallen Union agent. “Where is he?” Ragar demanded flatly.

“What?”

“Frankenstein.“

“What?”

“The one you and your gang had stolen off of the streets of Seoul nine days prior—tall, blonde, black suit, black ribbon.”

“Wh-what—“

Ragar painfully crunched the man’s shoulder under his boot and lifted the barrel of the gun to the man’s face. “Would you care to say ‘what’ again?” he murmured.

"Agh! I'm—"

"Go ahead."

The agent’s eyes went wide, the creases of his face stretched with pain and fear. “Ah—I—wh——what?”

The gunshot exploded through the air and tore apart the man’s abdomen. His choked scream did little to anesthetize him as he hissed blood and breath through his crooked teeth.

"Ragar, you can relax. I'm right here."

He spun around, long hair whipping sharply behind him, eyes wide and feral.

Frankenstein was dressed in only snug black shorts. The ends of his hair dripped with liquid. He looked as if he had just emerged from a tank. Under the moon, his skin glistened, more pale than Ragar remembered. Faint and fading bruises marked his body.

"You are..."

"I'm fine. Let's go home." Casually, he turned away, bare feet on concrete. "I'll explain what happened after I take a shower."

Ragar looked between Frankenstein and the groaning Union goon on the ground. They spared his life that night.

As he trailed after Frankenstein, hair fluttering as they leapt from rooftop to rooftop, he could make out faint long wounds that ran down his friend's toned back, like seams where wings would meet his body if he had wings.

"Are you truly fine, Frankenstein?"

Frankenstein scoffed. "Of course I am."

* * *

"The deal went south." Frankenstein sighed as he took a seat, damp towel draped over his shoulders. "I should have expected that from them, and I did. It's just—I couldn't let the opportunity pass. Even if I had just a little hope, that was enough." His expression flattened into an icy sheet. "They're dead now—Crombel and his lackeys; I made sure of it personally. Though, they did manage to conduct a few godforsaken experiments before I found out that they were planning on keeping me under indefinitely." Frankenstein nodded his thanks as he accepted the teacup from Ragar. "Master has not been disturbed in my absence, has he?"

"He continues to slumber. No one has touched his coffin." Pensively, Ragar's eagle-like eyes looked him over. "You say they conducted experiments on you. Do you know what has been done?"

Frankenstein's lips tilted into a crooked grin. "That's where you come in, Ragar. They put a couple blood stones in my body. I'm going to need you to help me take them out." He sipped his tea. "You have your blades with you. We'll do this in the lab so as to not leave a mess."

At two o'clock in the morning, Ragar was hosing down pools of blood on the tiled floor and into the drain in the corner of the room. Watered down red swirls lazily drew serpentine shapes around his shoes. "That was more than a couple, Frankenstein."

Frankenstein grimaced as he patted down the bandages crisscrossing his body. “Well, it’s done now, and we got what we needed.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the six bloodstones, watching them gleam with amorphous powers in his palm. It was enough to make him smile. “I think, it’s time we wake up Master. What do you say, Ragar?”

Ragar nodded and shut off the water. “He will be happy to see you again.” His gaze leveled on the blood seeping again through Frankenstein’s bandages. “But perhaps not in that state.” After winding up the hose and storing it in its proper place, he approached with a heavy medical kit and set it on the bench next to Frankenstein. “I will redo your bandages for you.”

Twenty minutes later, with the gauze, disinfectant and wraps packed away, Ragar held up a white shirt.

Amusement crossed Frankenstein's face. "I can dress myself you know."

"I know.” Ragar carefully draped the silken fabric over Frankenstein’s shoulders. “But let me do this for you regardless.” They stood in comfortable silence as he methodically buttoned up the shirt. When the last button near Frankenstein’s throat was done, Ragar's hands smoothly and intimately slid down over his friend’s shoulders and chest, solid and warm under his fingers, gliding over any wrinkles with the soft hush of cloth against skin, the sound as gentle as breathing.

Frankenstein’s brow quirked playfully, a smirk written across his lips. “Did you miss me, Ragar?”

Endearingly honest, Ragar nodded once. “I missed you,” he said.

* * *

“The blood stones, they are fueled by the life force of others.”

“Not anyone that will be missed, in this case, Master.” Frankenstein held the vial of fine, sparkling red powder in the lab light. “They were people you would have sentenced anyway, if you were there. You would have wasted your life force on them, but, instead, they can now be put to good use and restore you.” He smiled imploringly at Raizel. “Please, Master, let me do this for you. I have promised to protect you, to serve you, and to save you, even if it is the last thing I do. Using these bloodstones to extend your life, it is not a dishonorable thing to do.” He uncapped the vial and tilted its contents into the tea, steam still rising and curling around his fingers. Plenty of sugar followed shortly. He presented the cup to Raizel, who sat ever poised on a plush chair.

Effortlessly, Raizel accepted the cup and saucer into his hands. “What have you gone through to obtain these stones, Frankenstein?”

Frankenstein smiled, glass-like. “Nothing too terrible,” he insisted.

Raizel brought the tea to his lips and savored its generous sweetness.

Frankenstein knelt before him. “Thank you, Master.” He tilted his head downwards, ease making his limbs heavy and lethargic. “Thank you...”

The cup crashed to the floor, splintering in every direction with an obscene clamor. Raizel reached forward to grasp at Frankenstein before he could tip over.

“Frankenstein!”

Ragar rushed over to his side, a supporting hand on his shoulder as well.

Frankenstein was slumped against Raizel, his breathing shallow, like in deep slumber.

A beat of wide-eyed silence passed between the two nobles.

Raizel’s expression clouded over with concern.

“Perhaps he only needs rest for now. He had gone missing for nine days. It can very well be that Frankenstein has just exhausted himself," Ragar offered.

Slowly, Raizel nodded, the motion heavy with the weight of apprehension. “I will take him to his room.”

They ascended in the elevator in silence, Frankenstein’s head resting against Raizel’s shoulder.

* * *

"It is in his blood." Raizel carefully placed the reusable bag full of groceries into the trunk of the car, next to the other bags Ragar had already swiftly arranged. "It is faint, but I can sense foreign noble energies. The bloodstones have been removed, but their effects are lingering within him. I am uncertain of what will develop from this."

Ragar's eyes narrowed considerately. "I will be sure to keep close watch of him in the future."

Raizel nodded deeply, expression grateful. Then, he stared up at the sky, painted in dark, gentle hues. "Frankenstein is waking."

Ragar dipped his head, shut the trunk, and opened the passenger door for him. "Let us return home, Sir Raizel."

* * *

He awoke in a dark room, eyes flashing wide. Hastily, Frankenstein tossed his covers to the side, shuffled out of bed, and beelined to the kitchen. The house was dark and quiet and the sudden bright light of the open fridge made him squint.

"Shall I make you something, Homeowner?"

He blinked and turned around. In the inky darkness, a pair of red eyes stared back at him. "Ah, Seira."

"I imagine that you must be famished and parched. You have been asleep for three days."

"That long?"

Seira nodded. Then, she flicked on the lights.

Frankenstein flinched at the sudden brightness, strangely overwhelming to him now, but he quickly composed himself.

Amicably, Seira nodded at him. "Please, Homeowner, have a seat." She gestured to one of the tall chairs tucked under the kitchen island. "I will prepare something filling."

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and nodded. "Thank you," he said and smiled. "Ah, but, if it doesn't trouble you, can we dim the lights slightly?"

For a moment, Seira glanced at him curiously, but swifly complied, reaching out to turn the dial for the ambient kitchen lighting.

Not long after, with rice, meat, and soup laid out before him, Frankenstein twisted around in his seat at the sound of the unlocking door, the ends of his chopsticks held to his mouth.

"Master. Ragar." He quickly stood up, placing his chopsticks across his bowl, and bowed for Raizel.

Raizel's gaze was lingering.

Ragar set down the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. "Are you feeling well, Frankenstein?"

"If you're referring to the holes you carved in me, they've healed." He took his seat again and brought the bowl of soup closer to himself before taking a sip from his spoon, only to forego the spoon and drink ravenously directly from the bowl.

Ragar nodded. “That is good to hear. If you’re eating so healthily, then you must be feeling better.”

Gently, Frankenstein wiped his lips with a napkin, recollecting his grace. “Hm.” He turned towards Raizel. “But that’s hardly what’s important. How are you feeling, Master?”

“As well as I have ever been.”

Frankenstein smiled, tender and bright like all was right in the world at last, or so he liked to believe. " _That_ is good to hear," he said.

* * *

Sunlight poured in through the window of his office and warmed the back of his neck. Students bustled around outside and in the halls at the start of the lunch break. Frankenstein squinted at the paperwork in his hands, glaring white back at him, reflecting sun. He rubbed at his eyes and then pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling an irritable headache spread in a tight ring around his head. He set the papers down and sighed, scratching absently at the warmed back of his neck.

His door clicked open, and boldly, Ragar stepped inside, carrying in his hands a pink kitty-lunchbox. He set it squarely on Frankenstein's desk. "It is lunchtime. You should eat." His gaze was sharp and serious. "Do not refuse."

Frankenstein blinked and sat back. " _Demanding._ " Nonetheless, a conceeding smirk tipped his lips upwards. "What's on the menu today, Ragar?"

Smoothly, Ragar unzipped the top of his lunchbox and from it produced a stack of insulated steel bowls, which he also set squarely in front of Frankenstein. "Samgyeopsal, japchae, kimchi." He placed a pair of chopsticks on top of one of the bowls. "Taken from the cafeteria this morning."

Frankenstein took up the chopsticks between his fingers. "Thank you." Sunlight from behind him glinted off the edge of the bowl. He squinted irritably then placed his chopsticks down with a sharp click and suddenly stood up. He turned around and with a smooth, swift motion closed the blinds to the window, casting the whole office in cool shadow. Sighing softly with relief, he sat down.

Frankenstein ate vigorously that afternoon, as if he could never be full.

"Hm?" He glanced up at Ragar. "What are you looking at?"

"You, clearly," Ragar said.

* * *

That evening, they were tangled up in each other as they had done many other evenings before. Moonlight splashed across his bare skin; downy sheets creased beneath their bodies. Frankenstein laced his fingers through Raizel’s soft, dark hair, locks slipping smoothly in between.

They kissed and then kissed again.

He trailed his lips along his master’s delicate neck. Suddenly, they turned over, Frankenstein pinning Raizel to the bed, looming over him, predatory, hungry. He stared at Raizel for a long moment, storms in his bright eyes.

Quietly, Raizel understood.

“Frankenstein...” Raizel wrapped his arms around him, pulling him down. Brushing his cheek tenderly against Frankenstein’s long hair, he whispered, “You may drink from me.”

Frankenstein sunk down. His lips parted. His fangs pierced Raizel’s neck deeply. Blood spilled and he swallowed like a parched man. Swallowed like it was nectar, like it was cool milk and honey. Like it was life itself.

Then, Frankenstein awoke, came to himself in a startling instant, and he pulled away, blood trailing down his lips and chin. “Master—“

Raizel leaned forward, trailing after him. He reached out and grasped gently at his arm, pulling them close again. “It is all right,” he said softly. “It is all right...”

They rested against each other. Frankenstein sighed and closed his eyes.

“You may have your fill, Frankenstein,” Raizel told him.

Obediently, Frankenstein pressed his fangs into him again.


End file.
